The Duck Falls Down the Rabbit Hole
by NatesMama
Summary: Even the best psychologists need someone to talk to. Sweets' conversations with his own personal therapist.
1. The Sound of One Duck Quacking

_**A/N: I'm not sure if whomever is reading this now knows what happened with myself, our friends and the person for whom I originally wrote this series. If you do, you might understand why I wanted to simply delete the whole thing and start over…but in reflection I realized that the sentiment with which I wrote it was real and existed for me and I refuse to let that temper what was a sincere gift that I meant to give with all my heart. So, here it stays. **_

_**If you love Sweets, you might really like this. If you don't like Sweets…eh, read it anyway. You might feel differently about him afterwards. He's a good egg, our baby duck. **_

_**In any case…enjoy!**_

_**~NM**_

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><p><span>The Sound of One Duck Quacking<span>

"Do you think it's your fault?"

The question, asked so straightforward but without malice, caused the younger man to twitch. If he were honest with himself, if he stripped away all the pretty psychological phrases and clinical excuses and really looked at the situation…

"Yes and no."

"Ah, ambiguity. The bane of the psychologist's existence." The doctor smiled. "Well, at least the bane of mine." He leaned forward and tapped his pen against his notebook. "Lance, you must know what a cop-out that answer is."

Sweets uncrossed his legs, leaning back into the comfortable chair that every single psychiatrist's office always seemed to have with a sigh. "But it's the truth. There are times, when I allow myself to think about it, that I feel responsible. But aside from that first…incident…everything I've done has been for the benefit of my patients."

"Friends."

"Yeah." Sweets laughed harshly. "Dr. Curtis, can you believe they still _want_ to be my friends after everything that happened?"

"You're a good man, Lance. You have pulled yourself up from dire circumstances, worked hard, embraced your innate talents and now…now you work for the FBI doing truly good, satisfying work that benefits mankind." He smiled. "I should think anyone would want to be your friend."

Sweets stood and moved to stare out the windows that covered one entire wall of the office. He considered his next words carefully before turning back to the other doctor. "I'm not exactly a good friend to have, you know."

"No, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

He smirked at that. The trouble with being a psychologist who is seeing a psychologist is that you tend to know all the tricks before they ever materialize, which tends to inhibit your natural reactions. You have to be committed to the therapy completely, and there were days that Sweets wondered if he would ever be that dedicated to his own cause.

"I know that Dr. B doesn't hold grudges. But I also know that she despises psychology. She finds my field a 'waste of my high intelligence'." He huffed out a laugh. "She actually said that. Intelligence can be measured, so she can't deny that but the psych stuff…I might as well be wearing a loin cloth and doing a hula while shaking a shrunken head on a stick, for all the credence she pays to my job." He shook his head. "Although, now that I think about it, she would probably give me _more_ credit for the shrunken head. Some sort of anthropological significance to it, or something…." He trailed off. "She doesn't really like me."

The older man frowned. "How do you know that she doesn't like you?"

"I just…it's a feeling I get. She's never said it, and she's generally nice to my face, but…" He shrugged. "Her partner would call it a gut reaction. But I can see the thinly veiled distaste in her eyes."

Clearing his throat, Dr. Curtis set his notebook down and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You don't think that's projection? We've talked about this, Lance. Until you forgive yourself for what you did to her, all you will ever see in her eyes is reprisal."

Sweets sat back down across from his therapist, head flopping back on the sofa. "Yeah. I know that."

"Easier said than done, I know."

"I get why I can and should forgive myself. Intellectually, clinically…it all makes sense. But then I think about the signs I missed…I mean, I didn't know them very well at the time, and I suppose that's an excuse I can use, but they sat right in front of me, giving each other these looks…" He stared at the ceiling from his reclined position, absently counting the tiles above him. "It's the most amazing non-verbal communication I've ever witnessed. And I didn't understand the scope of it."

"You've said that she compartmentalizes better than anyone you've ever seen. You can't be responsible for-"

"But I can!" Sweets stood again and began pacing in front of the sofa frantically. "I knew what she had been through as a teenager. Abandonment issues are her Achilles heel and in the name of science I exploited that weakness." Losing steam, he flopped back down in his seat. "I knew they had a connection, a deep connection…and I wanted to use that to see how extensive her ability to avoid emotional reactions went. That's…it's a violation of everything we believe in." He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Right?"

Dr. Curtis nodded solemnly. "You know that it is, Lance. And if Dr. B had chosen to pursue it, you could have lost your license over it. But you didn't."

"No, she never even told Agent B." The ambiguous names he was forced to use for Booth and Brennan in the name of patient confidentiality sometimes made him cringe.

"How do you know she never told him?"

The first smile of the day crossed his lips. "Because I'm still alive."

The doctor chuckled. "Yes, from what you've told me, your agent does have quite a defensive reaction when it comes to his partner."

"He's been in love with her since before I met them. And he protects those he loves."

"The ultimate alpha male."

"Exactly."

"Does he protect you?"

The question gave Sweets pause. "I-I don't know. Yes. When I was taking my gun certification test and was injured, he seemed more upset about it than the injury warranted, but I really just think it's his guilt in not being able to protect someone…not necessarily me. Agent B is like that for anyone." Sweets sighed. "It's what makes him…heroic."

"And there's nothing in your past that would indicate that he cares for you more than he would the average citizen on the street?"

Sweets pondered that for a moment. "Well, I mean…there was the time that they came to my office and made me come home with them to have dinner with Dr. Wyatt…"

"The time they confessed something dark about their own childhoods? To make you see that you were not the only one with scars?"

"Yes." He cleared his suddenly tight throat, remembering how that one night had made him feel just a little less alone. "But Agent B was only there because she made him come. He can't deny her."

Curtis paused, squelching a smile. "So this venture was Dr. B's idea?"

"Yes, according to Dr. Wyatt. And she did encourage Agent B to open up."

"Which was noteworthy due to the fact that Dr. B rarely opens up emotionally for anyone? And yet this time, she was the one who kicked off the sharing?"

"Right."

"This is the woman who doesn't even like you, correct?"

Sweets laughed, shaking his head ruefully. "Alright. You've made your point. She likes me. Or, she tolerates me enough to be able to feign affection, anyway."

Dr. Curtis took a breath, sensing victory. "The same woman who never, ever lies about anything? Who doesn't see a need to spare someone's feelings in the name of honesty? She's 'faking it', just for you?"

Sweets ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at his eyes harshly. "Sometimes, I really hate psychology."


	2. Getting His Ducks in a Row

Getting His Ducks in a Row

"So tell me more about your girlfriend, Daisy. You haven't mentioned her lately." Dr. Curtis shuffled some papers and then leaned back, absently chewing the eraser on his pencil.

"Daisy? Well, there's not much to tell. I mean, we were engaged before she left for Indonesia with Dr. B a few years ago, and when she came back we tried to keep it casual." Sweets shook his head. "Sorry, you know all of this."

"Right. But how are things now? Are you still wary or has she earned your trust again?"

" I think so." Sweets turned to look at the window. "Yeah. Yeah, I think we're really close to that."

"Just close? You've been back together for, what? Over a year now?"

Sweets shook his head. "We've been on and off, really. At least until we lost Vincent. Then it was…I don't know, it didn't seem like keeping our distance was as important as living in the moment." He smiled slightly. "And after that, we just started to really remember why we were together in the first place."

"And why is that? What is it about this woman that makes you want to forgive her for leaving you for a year?"

"It was only seven months."

"Lance…"

"Alright, alright." He rested his ankle on his knee. "Daisy, she's…Look, I know that most people find her annoying. She's relentlessly cheerful, tends to butt into situations that are none of her business, and she has absolutely no verbal filter." Looking up at the ceiling with a grin, he continued softly. "But they don't see what I see. She sings show tunes in her pajamas while making pancakes in the morning. She cleans the tub immediately after she finishes her shower every morning. She recycles coffee grounds. She puts little notes in my suit pockets to remind me to eat something fun, to tell me she loves me, to just say something kind." He tilted his head back to look at the older man. "And that's really it…she's very kind. And quirky in all the best ways. And I love her just the way she is. And she loves me just the way I am. That's all."

"That's quite a list. She sounds delightful."

"She really is." He sighed again. "I just wish more people could see it."

Dr. Curtis cleared his throat meaningfully. "Don't you think the most important opinion is yours?"

Another sigh. "I do. It's just…it bothers me when people make fun of her. And it bothers her, too. We talk about it. A lot. Hell, I even tried to curb her impulsive tendencies a few years ago but I screwed up and ended up hovering too close, and it just pissed her off."

"Because she thought you didn't trust her to handle herself."

"Right."

"And you didn't trust her."

"Right." He nodded absently. "She forgave me, though. She always forgives me." The last was said in a softer, more thoughtful tone.

Curtis took the opening. "Do you always forgive her, as well?"

Sweets stood and moved to stand where he usually did when therapy made him admit something he would rather not, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. He stared out at the lush, green grass of the park that stood across from the medical building they were in and shook his head. "I honestly thought that I had forgiven her, for going to Indonesia. I mean, why wouldn't I? Look at Dr. B and Agent B. They pretty much broke each other's heart, he found another woman, they barely spoke outside of work for five months, and now they're together and having a baby any day." He turned back to his therapist. "Why can't I do the same thing? It's like…I don't know, there's a block in my head. A mental block, that's preventing me from completely letting this go." Frustrated, he moved back to the couch and sat down heavily.

"Do you want to be with Daisy?"

"Yes." He responded immediately.

"Do you love her?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with her?"

"I don't know." Whether it was the quickness of the reply or the ambiguity, both doctors were surprised by Sweets' answer.

"You don't know." It wasn't a question.

The younger man leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "No. I really, really don't."


	3. Duck and Cover

Duck And Cover

"You've never had siblings, correct?"

Sweets rubbed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. "I-I guess, if you don't count foster siblings, then no."

"Is that something you regret? That you never had that particular familial connection?"

With a sigh, he nodded. "Of course. I was…lost. A child, an abused child. I knew, _know_ that my parents loved me. They gave me everything they had for as long as they could. But when they adopted me they were already in their early fifties."

"So siblings were not possible." Dr. Curtis shuffled a few papers. "But you were happy. Happier."

The younger man nodded. "My parents were amazing. They were everything my birth parents were not. It feels selfish now, to wish I'd had a brother or sister."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting something, or needing it. It doesn't make you selfish, it makes you human." Curtis uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "We all crave a human connection, and if that connection is with someone closer to our age, in a similar situation, all the better. You wanted to share your life with a brother."

"Or a sister."

"No." He shook his head at his patient. "You craved a brother. Someone to play video games with, toss the football around…a male to male shared bonding that your adoptive father was not quite young enough to indulge once you became a teenager."

Sweets shook his head. "I would have been just as happy with a sister."

"Maybe." Sweets hated when he slipped into his condescending mode. Briefly wondering if Booth and Brennan hated his own overbearing attitude as much, he let Curtis continue. "But I think that, in the end, a brother would have been more suitable."

Giving up all pretenses at not understanding where Dr. Curtis was leading the discussion, Sweets nodded resignedly. "An older brother."

"You know where I'm going with this, Lance."

"Agent B is like my replacement older brother." Sweets smiled self-deprecatingly. "Kind of pathetic, right?"

With a furrowed brow, Curtis shook his head. "Why? Wanting something you've never had isn't pathetic. As I said, we all crave that connection. And the connection between brothers is incredibly profound. As males we may pass it off as alpha male posturing, asserting our place in the tribe, but in the end it's all about that shared male bonding experience, something we as men actually need."

"Exploring our masculine side instead of our feminine side?" Sweets smirked.

"We need both for balance. And if Agent B fulfills that role for you…"

"Well, he verbally abuses me like an older brother." Sweets laughed. "All attention, even negative attention and all that…but I-" He stopped, trapped in his own head for a moment.

"Lance?" Curtis prodded, gently.

Raising his head, Sweets nodded. "The reason Agent B gives me such a hard time, why he pokes and prods and picks on me…He thinks of _me_ as a younger brother."

Curtis sat back in his chair, satisfied that they had reached the same conclusion. "That is entirely possible."

"So, what, does that make Dr. B? My sister-in-law? She'd love that comparison." He smiled. "And by 'love', I mean 'pick apart the insinuation in that particular moniker until there were absolutely no anthropological conclusions to draw from its use in comparison to our relationship' way."

"They consider you family, Lance. You must know that."

Unexpectedly, Sweets' nose tingled with that familiar pre-tears warning. Deep down, where he was unwilling to acknowledge it, he'd always wondered if his feeling of belonging within their team dynamic felt as much like a family to them as it did to him, or if he was just so goddamn needy that he had convinced himself of something that just didn't exist. But to hear someone else verbalize that inherent desire out loud…it affected him more than he would ever admit.

"I want to believe that." His quiet admission was enough for his colleague to continue on.

"They include you in holiday celebrations?"

"Most of the time."

"Are those celebrations workplace gatherings?"

"No, mostly at someone's home. Usually one of theirs."

"Are you discouraged from bringing Daisy as your companion?"

"No, they know what she means to me, that she's-"

Dr. Curtis watched as the light bulb clicked on. It was one of his favorite moments as a psychologist.

"They don't like her." Sweets stood and moved to his preferred spot by the windows. "I know they don't. Agent B certainly, Dr. B works with her but I know she's not her favorite intern…she drives Dr. H nuts and Mrs. H…really not a fan."

"Lance. Come on." He smiled at the slightly defiant look on the younger man's visage. "Don't deprive me of my triumph."

With a soft laugh, Sweets returned to his place on the sofa. "Alright, fine." He sighed, almost happily. "You're absolutely right. Only family would put up with Daisy voluntarily."

"Which means…?"

"Come on, you're really going to make me say it?" Sweets grinned. "I already admitted…out loud…that you were right!"

Curtis returned the smile. "You are an incredibly complicated case study. Allow me my basking."

With a small laugh, Sweets nodded. "Okay. You win. Dr. B and Agent B think of me as family. They treat me like they would a younger brother, and the rest of the team has followed their lead and let me in, as well." He rolled his eyes at his mentor. "Happy?"

Sitting back, fingers interlaced on his tummy, the elder doctor nodded. "The point is…are you?"

Sweets leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "I don't want to inflate your professional ego any more than necessary, but…yeah." He looked at his shoes, a small grin crossing his face. "I am not going to stop and analyze it to death, but yes. I am happy."

"Sometimes just being happy is enough without all that pressure of understanding why."

Sweets laughed, this time genuine and full-bodied. "Yeah, but then I'd be out of a job."


End file.
